


This Wanting You

by LamentingQuill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: EWE, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 00:51:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LamentingQuill/pseuds/LamentingQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry can't take it anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Wanting You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mk_malfoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_malfoy/gifts).



** This Wanting You **

by

_Lamenting Quill_

* * *

 

 

Draco sat down on the wet grass, leaning his back against the trembling Oak. The wind and rain were unforgiving, and try as they might they were making no progress. He watched his fellow Auror pace back and forth in the April drizzle. He could tell the man was frazzled by the way his fists clenched every so often at his sides. It was subtle, yes, but after being field partners with him for over a year now, Draco had learned much about the Boy-Who-Wouldn’t-Die; some of it most surprising, and not entirely unpleasant – though he did find Harry’s penchant for pacing to be highly irksome.

“Bloody hell, Potter! Would you sit down already? You’re making me a nervous wreck,” he snapped.

Harry stopped mid-stride, looking over and down at his companion. “At least I’m up brainstorming instead of sitting on my arse, Malfoy,” he shot back.

Draco snorted, resting his head against the jagged bark of the tree. “I think Mother Nature is doing enough storming without your brain adding to the mix, Potter. I’m already facing the risk of being struck by lightening; I don’t need the added risk of being roped into one of your _bright_ ideas. Besides, there is nothing to be done now but wait.”

The other man sighed, running a hand through his wet hair which for once, thanks to the weather, was lying flat. “I don’t understand. They should be here. Our timing was perfect and in accordance with our information, but the place is clearly deserted. Perhaps we were mistaken-”

“We weren’t mistaken,” Draco interrupted. “I trust the source. Something must have happened to throw them off schedule. Maybe some other Aurors crossed paths with them in Oslo. With the Ministry expending so much of its efforts on tracking down the remaining Death Eaters, you can bet they’re not going to be taking any chances. Something must have scared them, made them lay low for a while, but they will be here, Potter. I’m certain,” he said, watching as Harry folded his arms across his chest, his head falling to look at the ground in something akin to defeat.

Draco closed his eyes to the sight, unwilling in this moment to travel down the now well-worn road of Potter-Pity. It was funny, really. He had never pitied Potter before – envied him, yes, but pitied, no. But the dynamics of his relationship with the Golden Boy and the Snogging Duo had been irrevocably changed when the three had saved his life. More than once. Of course, they hadn’t become fast friends or anything of the sort after that. It had taken Draco many months to convince Harry, Ron and Hermione that his views had changed; that he wanted to be out of his late father’s shadow and that he had decided if serving snake-faced bastards was the Malfoy legacy, he’d rather do without it, thanks.

Now, two years after the end of the war not only were Draco and the famous trio civil with one another, but he rather thought they had become good friends, as impossible a feat as that may seem. Especially he and Harry, as being partnered Aurors meant they spent a great deal of time together, both abroad and at home training. The young blonde had learned early on that Harry wasn’t the person he had thought him to be, and over the passing months he had come to respect the man he once loathed, and that respect had gradually changed into something more – something that Draco either couldn’t, or wouldn’t, define. But whatever it was, it was becoming more and more difficult to ignore.

But something about Harry had seemed off lately. Draco had thought they had been becoming closer, but recently he felt as if Harry were pushing him away. He seemed to always be on edge and the Slytherin wasn’t sure if it was because he was so caught up in wanting the remaining Death Eaters dealt with, or if it was something deeper than that. Whatever it was, he hated the thought of losing Harry’s friendship now that he had obtained it, as well as the unexamined possibilities which lay within.

Opening his eyes, he found Harry standing in the same position and wished there was something that he could do. He knew the Gryffindor wanted nothing more than for this whole ordeal to be finally over. Yes, Voldemort was gone, but not all of his followers were, and anyone who knew Harry Potter at all knew the man would not rest until he was certain that all of the Death Eaters had met with the same fate as their master.

“Harry,” he said softly, meeting his green gaze steadily when he glanced up. “They’ll be here, and they won’t escape this time. Understand me? We won’t let them get away again. We’ll make sure it ends tonight, and on that, no matter how little it may mean to you, you have my word.”

Their gazes remained locked for an unknown amount of time, seeming to communicate thousands of words, yet words that neither of them understood. And then they heard it – the unmistakable sound of footsteps and hushed voices, echoing quietly on the outskirts of Bodø in Norway.

Draco stood and pulled his wand from his belt, moving slowly and determinedly with Harry toward the last of the Death Eaters who were meeting up at Bellatrix’s ‘secret’ summer hideaway.

He had given Harry his word, and no matter the price, he intended to keep it.

 

* * *

 

It hurt to breathe Draco realised as he started gaining consciousness. A piercing ache shot through his chest with every inhalation and a dull throb began every time he exhaled. The second sensation he noticed was that of a warm hand holding his own and gentle fingertips ghosting over his brow. He relaxed slightly into the mattress he seemed to be lying on, murmuring a soft, “Harry…”

“Draco? Draco, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Harry, I hear you…” he replied sleepily, his eyelids feeling far too heavy to open.

“It’s Hermione, Drake. Please, open your eyes,” the young witch pleaded softly.

_Hermione?_ Confused, Draco – with great effort – opened his eyes, his gaze immediately landing on the young woman hovering above him worriedly. He started to sit up, but her gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Shh… easy there. You’ve still a few ribs that haven’t healed completely yet. It would be best not to move about too much.”

“What happened? Where’s Harry?” he asked, not liking the way her eyes looked away from his own at the second question.

“Harry’s fine,” she replied quickly, face turning back toward his, an obviously forced smile upon her lips. “You both did well last night, Draco. It’s finally over. You took a pretty bad slicing hex from Bellatrix and you broke three ribs falling from the force of it. You lost consciousness, but Harry managed to take care of Bellatrix and the few others quickly after that, and he brought you here to St. Mungo’s. He had a few minor injuries, but he’s already been taken care of and given the clean bill of health.”

“And where is he now?” His worry and sense of dread began to grow as Hermione once again looked away. “Hermione, you know. I know you do. Tell me where he is, what’s happened.”

The witch sighed, running a hand through her frizzy curls. She took a deep breath and then slightly shook her head. “I don’t, Draco. I don’t know where he is. He brought you here, allowed a Medi-Witch to treat him, asked me to look after you and then disappeared. I’ve not seen or heard from him since. No one has. Ron is gone looking for him, but so far…” she trailed off as a young Medi-Witch came their way, a folded parchment in her hand.

“A letter for you from the Ministry, Mr. Malfoy,” she said, handing him the missive with a smile. “And Healer Mason will be along shortly to check those ribs, and after that you should be free to go.”

Draco only nodded, opening the parchment as soon as the woman left, aware of Hermione’s curious gaze. His eyes scanned the page quickly, his heart sinking at the words. The only thing that he could think as he lay there reading the few lines over and over was _why_? He didn’t have the answer, but he’d be damned if it would stay that way.

His hand tightened into a fist around the letter as he threw off his covers and began climbing out of the bed, pushing Hermione out of the way as she attempted to prevent his rise.

“Draco, what do you think you’re doing? You’ll cause your ribs to re-break if you aren’t careful…. Where are you going?”

Her voice was growing more and more hysterical, but Draco ignored both her and the pain in his chest as he quickly exchanged his hospital gown for his robes, sparing no time for modesty.

“Please, Draco, do be sensible,” Hermione begged. “That letter, is it about Harry?”

“Yes and no.”

And with that cryptic reply he stormed past the Gryffindor witch and down to the lobby where he Disapparated immediately, teeth clenched against the agony of his tender ribs.

In hindsight, he supposed it would have been best to have had a clear idea of where he had been Disapparating to, but he hadn’t been thinking about anything but finding Harry, and it seemed his subconscious had chosen this location. He checked to make sure he hadn’t splinched himself in his thoughtless haste, and was relieved to find all body parts attached and in their proper places. Looking up, it appeared he hadn’t been the only one to Apparate to this particular clearing near the edge of the Screaming Woods.

“Malfoy!” the red-head said in surprise from a few paces ahead. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in the hospital still? Hermione-”

“Yes, yes, Weasley,” he interrupted impatiently. “I’m supposed to be in the hospital, and yes your little wife tried to keep me there. As to what I’m doing here, I’d imagine it to be for the same reason you are.”

Ron merely nodded, turning to stare intently through the trees where you could just make out the vague outline of a small cottage.

Harry had been willed the dwelling by the late Remus Lupin, but rarely visited it but for doing the upkeep, for he always said the walls held too many shattered dreams. As soon as Teddy was old enough though, Draco knew that Harry was planning to hand it over to him.

“It looks as though we’ve found him. I believe I see a light,” Ron said, starting to move forward but stopping at the sound of Draco’s voice.

“Wait. If you wouldn’t mind, Ron, I’d like to go in alone. I’m sure Hermione would appreciate it if one of us went back anyhow, to let her know that we found him,” he said, silently begging the red-head not to be stubborn about this. Luck was apparently on his side, for after a brief moment in which he seemed to be contemplating the Slytherin’s words, he nodded once again.

“Right. You were with him last night; it might be for the best. I’ll go get Hermione, and we’ll be at home if you need us.”

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, releasing a breath and wincing slightly at the pain it inflicted.

“You alright there, mate? Maybe I should-”

“No. No, I’m fine. You go ahead and leave. I’ll try to sort this out.”

Ron looked reluctant, eyeing him with concern. “Well, if you’re sure…”

“I am,” the blonde affirmed, and after a few more exchanged words, Draco was relieved to find that he was alone, making his way through the fringe of the woods and toward the cottage, the parchment still clutched in his hand.

As he drew nearer to the home, it seemed the more hurt and angry he became over the words now crumpled in his fingers. How could Harry do this to him now, after all this time? Now, just when he was beginning to acknowledge… acknowledge what, exactly? That he found the Gryffindor attractive? That he wanted to be more than just field partners and friends?

Draco came to a stop just outside the front door, running a hand over his face. Yes, he did find Harry attractive, and were he being honest with himself he had been craving something more with the man for a while now. He had thought they were getting close to crossing that line from ‘just friends’ to ‘something more’ but he was holding the proof in his hand that he had only been fooling himself.

Trying to rein in his rampant emotions, he waved his wand to open the door, not bothering to knock as the wards were set to recognise him. He walked immediately into the kitchen, finding Harry sitting at the table staring out of the window, not even looking up as he entered. Walking over, he slammed the letter down on the worn wooden surface in front of the man.

“What is the meaning of this?” he hissed.

“I’m certain Chief made it perfectly clear,” was the quiet reply.

“No, he did _not_ make it perfectly clear, Potter,” Draco growled. “Imagine, I wake up in a hospital with Hermione Weasley at my bedside not sure how I got there, and when I ask where you are, one of your closest friends has no answer, because she doesn’t know herself. And then, _then_ I get this letter from Chief, saying that I’ve been assigned a new partner… at _your_ request. No explanation as to why you have all of a sudden decided that you don’t want me for a partner anymore, no explanation as to why you disappeared… _nothing._ ”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said softly, still not looking not at the blonde by his side, but out of the window and into the forest.

Draco closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. “Is that all you have to say, Harry? You’re sorry? Did I do something wrong that I’m unaware of? Was I such a horrible partner all this time and you didn’t want to tell me?”

Harry finally turned to meet his gaze at that, shaking his head. “No. No, don’t even think that, Draco. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.”

Draco gave a short, hollow laugh. “You couldn’t have asked for a better partner, and yet you asked for a new one? Your mouth is saying one thing, Potter, but your actions are saying another. I don’t understand. Help me understand,” he half demanded, half pleaded, wanting nothing more than to know why Harry was doing this. They had accomplished much together as partners over the past year, having found and executed more remaining Death Eaters than any other team. They had laughed together, camped together, healed one another’s injuries, used each other for a punching bag when the frustration became too much to contain any longer… and now, for reasons Draco couldn’t comprehend, it was over. Just like that. Just like the hunt for Voldemort’s remaining followers. The pain of that realisation was almost too much for Draco to swallow, and for a moment he thought he might literally choke.

Harry sighed, dropping his head into his hands. “Please, Draco. Don’t make this any more difficult than it already is. I just… I just need a change.”

The words hit Draco like a slap in the face, and with such force that he had to take a step backward. “I don’t understand…. Why?” he whispered.

The man merely shook his head as he observed the surface of the table.

Draco’s anger was quickly replacing his hurt, and he exclaimed, “Damn it, Harry! I think you at least owe me that much after all we’ve been through together. I’m going to ask you one more time. _Why_?” He jumped slightly as the previously motionless man slammed his hand down on the table as he suddenly stood, meeting Draco’s gaze with emerald pools filled with too many emotions to decipher.

“Because, Draco,” he snapped angrily, “I can’t take this anymore. Are you happy?” he spat, before turning his back on the blonde, his hand reaching to tightly grasp the top of the chair he had just vacated.

Draco’s brows knitted together in his confusion, and all the anger left his voice to be replaced by curiosity as he asked gently, “Can’t take what anymore, Harry?” And he watched as the Gryffindor seemed to deflate at the question, his fingers turning white against the deep mahogany of the chair, and Draco had to strain to hear his answer, it was spoken so quietly.

“This wanting you.”

The barely breathed confession left Draco speechless, and before his mind could even fully process what Harry had just said, his feet had already carried him the few paces necessary to reach out and touch the other man. And he did; he laid his trembling hand on Harry’s shoulder, squeezing gently and causing him to look up at him, his gaze of emerald torment meeting that of Draco’s iced amazement. He couldn’t speak. _This wanting you._ The confession repeated over in his mind and he had no words in his internal dictionary to form a reply. So he remained silent, allowing his actions to say what his voice could not.

Applying gentle pressure to Harry’s shoulder, he turned the Auror until he was facing him directly, and then Draco languidly moved the same hand upward to come to rest against the other man’s warm cheek. He exhaled slowly as Harry cautiously leaned into his touch, as though afraid Draco would withdrawal at any moment. The Slytherin certainly had no intentions of doing anything of the sort, and instead he took a small step closer, lowering his head to lightly nudge Harry’s nose with own and relishing the way it caused the man’s lashes to lower and lips to part.

He paused there for a moment, merely breathing the other man in, memorising the feel of the soft skin beneath his fingertips, the way Harry’s other hand came up to cover his own, and the sweet, impatient little sound that escaped the delicious sight before him. Unable to bear it any longer Draco closed the remaining distance between them, merely ghosting his lips over Harry’s at first before applying more pressure. He then lightly ran his tongue along the Gryffindor’s lower lip, a shiver racing down his spine at the moan the action caused.

And then Harry’s mouth opened in invitation and Draco didn’t hesitate in accepting, groaning as their tongues met for the first time, wrapping sensuously around one another as they began the battle for dominance - neither particularly caring who won. The kiss was slow, fierce and passionate. It was perfect and unforgettable, and as they finally withdrew from each other they were both panting for breath, the labouring causing Draco’s ribs to twinge, but the pain was hardly noticeable through his current euphoria.

Harry dropped his forehead to rest on Draco’s shoulder, saying, “I never thought you could return my feelings.”

Draco turned his head, placing a gentle kiss to the side of Harry’s neck. “It’s never going to stop, you know, Harry,” he said, running a hand along the other man’s spine, delighting in the tremble it induced.

“What is never going to stop?” Harry asked, raising his head, eyes shining now with happiness and a desire that made the Slytherin’s knees go weak.

Draco smiled slightly as he gently pressed his hips into the other man’s - chuckling when the other Auror gasped - and placed his lips against Harry’s ear seductively as he whispered, “This wanting you.”

 

 


End file.
